


i swear i’ll try to save this

by ohallows



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Dragons, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Injuries, Pre-Slash, Spoilers up to ep 130
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 07:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20944577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohallows/pseuds/ohallows
Summary: He drops to all fours, and his vision narrows to a small slit of red, and then there’s nothing but fire and righteous vengeance burning through his veins as his bones shift, elongate. His hands turn to claws, scraping at the stone beneath him, and as he throws his head back, screaming pain and anger and misery at the sky, it comes pouring out of his mouth in a stream of the brightest blue fire. Pain, misery, terror, stress… all of them are meaningless to the fire roaring in his mind.





	i swear i’ll try to save this

**Author's Note:**

> :)
> 
> song title from ‘revival’ by echos!

The battle isn’t going well, not for any of them. Hamid is clutching ineffectually at his left arm in between spells, trying to keep it as still as possible while still moving, staying out of the reach of all the enemies surrounding them. 

Cel had been the first one to notice, ear flicking toward the east before they threw themselves backward with a shout of warning. It hadn’t been enough time for any of them to prepare. They’d grabbed two potions out of their coat and necked them, but a shroud of robes had hidden them from Hamid’s view before he could see the effect.

Azu, naturally suspicious after Rome, had already shouldered her axe and had been looking around warily; she had moved out of the way quickly enough, rocking back into the fray with a wail to rival her axe, taking down what must be Cult of Hades members as they swarm around her. 

Zolf had moved quick, too, but not fast enough to sidestep a dagger slicing through the air toward him, striking him in the shoulder. He’d stumbled back with a shout and been hidden too, and then Hamid had been looking up at at least five cultists, smirking as they towered over him. 

It had been a complete ambush; none of them had noticed in time before they’d been swarmed, surrounded on all sides by necromancers with wicked grins and barbarians with wicked-looking knives. Hamid’s already taken too many hits, left arm hanging uselessly at his side after a knife scraped along it, and his clothes are soot-blackened and dusty from being knocked back by spells.

They’d been separated too easily.

The battle hasn’t even lasted that long, but Hamid finds himself cut off from everyone else, barely able to spot Azu and Cel over the heads of the cultists in front of him, and he thinks he can see Zolf’s glaive glinting in the sunlight behind him, but he can’t be sure. The cultists had been brutally efficient, and Hamid hears Azu give a cry of pain from somewhere, but doesn’t hear her hit the ground as her axe continues to wail, echoing around the street. 

Not enough space between them and his friends to cast Fireball. Not enough time to draw them away so he can try.

He’s down to a few spells, and he can feel his head buzzing from the hits they’d been able to land, a fog that won’t seem to go away no matter how much he tries to will it. 

It’s hell. Oscar had said it would be a hard battle, had said it would be difficult, but they hadn’t been ready for… this. 

Azu finally goes down, the little bit of the top of her head that Hamid can see disappearing under an onslaught of black robes. Cel’s next; Hamid had only been able to see their hair, covered in dirt and debris and what might be blood, and then that’s gone too, covered by the cultists.

He’s able to get one more spell off, a quick Scorching Ray, before he sees Zolf go down, in between the legs of the cultists, and then he’s gone, covered by black robes and blocking him from Hamid’s vision. The second of distraction costs, though, as another cultist reaches across and Hamid’s mind explodes in a white-hot pain as a dagger slices across his shoulder.

He ignores it. 

He _ can’t _ lose anyone else. He _ can’t. _

He drops to all fours, and his vision narrows to a small slit of red, and then there’s nothing but fire and righteous vengeance burning through his veins as his bones _ shift _, elongate. His hands turn to claws, scraping at the stone beneath him, and as he throws his head back, screaming pain and anger and misery at the sky, it comes pouring out of his mouth in a stream of the brightest blue fire.

Pain, misery, terror, stress… all of them are meaningless to the fire roaring in his mind. Whatever’s left of Hamid has, for the moment, been burned away, scraped raw, too small for this skin. He doesn’t yet have the control of the meritocrats, the presence of mind to contain the emotions howling within his brain, but he knows that the dwarf on the ground is safe, is home, is warm is happiness is good is protection is everything and he crouches over him protectively, promising a swift death to anyone who so much looks in their direction. 

Some of the people in black robes disappear when he snarls at them, exchanging looks, but others rush toward him. It’s easy, now, for him to cast them aside. His claws tear through skin like butter, and it’s so _ simple _ to lunge and tear and destroy, all the while never letting them even come close to the dwarf. And then the last of the cultists disappear, or die, he’s not really sure, and the acrid tang of evil lifts from the air.

It’s quiet, and still. Black-robed figures litter the ground, and only two people are left standing - an orc, currently wiping blood off of her face, and he knows her, he thinks, and she smells of metal and comfort and protection, but he doesn’t know the individual standing next to her, smelling of brimstone and fire and potions and something he can’t quite place. 

His tongue flicks out and then he looks down at the dwarf below him, tasting death on the air. There’s blood running down from a nasty gash on his forehead, and the front of his shirt and chainmail are torn, skin ripped apart under what should have been his protection. His chest is rising, barely. 

He keens, quietly, as his claws scrabble at the dirt underneath, resting his jaw against the dwarf’s forehead, feeling a thin trickle of air brush against his scales as the dwarf breathes out, a rattling sound. 

“Hamid,” he hears, through the fire slowly dying in his mind, and his head swivels to glare at the orc approaching him slowly, hands held up in the air. “I can help.”

She smells like trust. Somewhere in his brain, he knows her, recognizes her, and that’s the only reason he doesn’t immediately roast her to a crisp. He allows her to get closer, still standing over the dwarf on the ground, but snarls when she’s close enough to touch and she immediately halts. The person behind her takes a step forward and he growls louder, claws tearing up the earth beneath him. 

“Cel,” the orc says, measured and calm. “Don’t come closer, I don’t want to spook him.”

They immediately stop moving, eyeing him with a mix of confusion and wariness. They don’t come any closer, and he feels his hackles fall, but he doesn’t stop snarling. 

The orc sits there, perfectly still, and doesn’t break eye contact with him, but there’s nothing threatening in her gaze.

“Hamid, I don’t know if you can understand me. But I can heal him,” the orc says, pointing at the dwarf he’s crouched over, the one who smells like home and comfort and familiarity. He doesn’t know what she means, but her words are soft, and confident, and they strike somewhere deep below the surface, something that remembers her, remembers her protecting him. 

He takes a hesitant step back but doesn’t take his eyes off of her, senses on high alert. 

“Thank you, Hamid,” she says, but he watches her warily as she slowly sinks to her knees next to the dwarf, hands glowing with a preternatural light. She reaches out and places her hands gently on his chest, and he tenses, preparing to leap if she does anything suspicious. 

Nothing happens for a moment, and the orc rocks back on her haunches, and a moment passes before the dwarf coughs, suddenly, taking in a shuddering breath, and the sense of relief that runs through his blood is pure and sweet. The fire is slowly dying down, the roaring of his mind becoming a sweet melody as the dwarf breathes in again, a steady beat that drowns out everything else.

“Hamid?” the dwarf asks, looking up at him, and there’s a sense of wonder and confusion in his eyes. “That you?”

He shifts back, slowly, and it’s like shedding a new skin that he’d never really expected to fit into. One moment he has claws and a tail and bright eyes that pierce through the strongest defense, and the next he’s kneeling on the ground, half in Zolf’s lap, and shivering.

“Oh, c’mere,” Zolf says, quiet, and sits up, wincing slightly as he does. He pulls off his coat and wraps it around Hamid’s trembling frame, and it’s inevitable, when Hamid leans in to him, arms coming up to wrap around his neck as he feels the hot prickle of tears in his eyes, lump in his throat. There’s a warm feeling on the back of his neck as Hamid feels Zolf’s hand settle there, and then the warmth transfers as Zolf heals him, spreads through him and pressing on insistently through his veins as he feels the cuts on his body close up, skin knitting back together. 

“Hey, Hamid,” Zolf says, with a slight smile on his face, and Hamid just curls closer into his side, arms wrapped tightly around him as he buries his head into Zolf’s shoulder. Zolf’s arm comes around his back, steadying him, and it’s warm and solid, and Hamid still can’t let go, clothes tattered, covered in a coat that’s too big for him as he kneels on the dirty ground. 

He doesn’t know where Azu and Cel are - expects that they’re nearby, and he has enough memories of the shift (which is definitely being tabled for later, when he can stop clinging to Zolf like he’s going to lose him all over again) to remember that they were both conscious, both okay, if a little bloodied. 

“Zolf -“ he chokes out, barely able to speak around the lump in his throat, and he knows he’s shaking but Zolf healing him is making him better, making him feel more centered. The stream of warmth stops and Hamid feels his wounds all close up. Zolf’s still warm, though, under him, pressing Hamid closer to himself while Hamid tries to stop from shaking apart. 

“I’m okay, Hamid,” Zolf says, rubbing gently at his back. 

“I can’t -“ he hiccoughs around the lump in his throat, “I can’t lose you too. Not - I -“

“Hey… hey, hey, Hamid,” Zolf murmurs. “I’m right here, okay?” He pulls back from Hamid for a moment and Hamid makes an embarrassing whine, arms locking around Zolf’s neck, but he doesn’t move far, only back enough so that he can press their foreheads together. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

Hamid can’t. He wants to, _ tries to _, but he can’t. Scared that it’s a dream, scared that he’ll open them up and Zolf will be gone, even when he can feel Zolf under him, feel his arm around his back. Zolf doesn’t stop speaking, which helps him feel more grounded. “That’s okay. You don’t have to. I’ll just talk. I’m fine. You tore the cultists apart - well done you, by the way. Azu and Cel are fine, a little beaten up, but fine. You, uh - you really saved us all out there, Hamid.”

Hamid opens his eyes, finally, and Zolf is so close to him, barely a fingers length away, speaking softly to him. “There we go,” he says, smile creeping across his face when Hamid makes eye contact with him. 

It’s gravitational, the hold Zolf has on him, and Hamid unlocks his arms, only pulling them back to wrap them in Zolf’s hair as he breathes, again, comforting himself in the fact that Zolf is still there, is _ alive _, is okay. Zolf’s other arm wraps around his waist and holds him there, steady. 

Azu clears her throat and Hamid and Zolf turn in tandem, Hamid blushing a fierce red at the soft smile she has on her face when she looks at them. 

“Me and Cel are going to scout ahead,” she says, quiet in the stillness. “We won’t go far; you two catch up when you can.”

“Yeah - yes!” Hamid squeaks, and Zolf nods at his side.

“Good idea,” he says, and Azu gives Hamid a knowing glance before turning around, heading down the path with Cel. Both of their wounds look healed, and Hamid realizes he didn’t even ask how Azu was. Guilt fills his stomach, and he resolves to ask Azu what happened later on.

“Should we, uh -“ Zolf says, glancing down at where Hamid’s arms rest on his shoulders, and Hamid gasps and scrambles back. He clutches Zolf’s coat tighter around himself, covering up the scraps of clothes hanging from his body. It’s not _ indecent _, not even close, but the thick coat makes him feel better. 

The fact that it smells like Zolf doesn’t hurt, either. They set off together, following behind Cel and Azu as they scope out the path ahead. If there’s another ambush, another attack, Hamid doesn’t know what they’ll do. They just have to make it to the next base and meet up with some reinforcements, let them know about the cultists popping out of nowhere. 

“So… you weren’t lying about that dragon stuff, eh?” Zolf says, eventually, and Hamid chuckles. 

“No, that’s - all true. Although I hadn’t really transformed before now,” Hamid says. He feels more settled, now. More grounded. “There was a spell, with Kafka, but. That’s a story for another time.”

“That was - that was the first time?” Zolf asks, and Hamid nods.

“The first proper time, at least. I’m - I still don’t really know what happened,” Hamid says. “I remember the anger, and the fear. Seeing all of you go down. But then it goes… funny?”

“Funny?” Zolf asks, turning to give him a confused look. “What d’you mean?”

“It’s all sort of…blurs? I remember the cultists rushing at me, and then seeing Azu gesture at me with Cel standing behind her, and you barely breathing… And then I was back, and you all were alright.”

“Yeah, you - I was out for all of it, nearly, but waking up to a dragon standing over you, snarling at someone off to the side, is a bit much to wake up to.”

“Sorry,” Hamid says, quiet, but Zolf shakes his head.

“You don’t - don’t need to apologize, Hamid,” he says. “I wasn’t afraid.”

“Really?” Hamid says, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Great mangy lizard standing over me, protecting me from anyone who’d attack? Can’t be scared of that, really.”

“I’m not _ mangy _.” Hamid hits Zolf on the arm, offended, but there’s no real force behind it. Zolf, for his part, just laughs quietly and apologizes. It doesn’t completely soothe the dig, but Hamid knows he didn’t mean it anyway. 

“Thank you,” Zolf says, serious all of a sudden, staring steadfastly ahead. “For saving me. Us.” 

Hamid smiles at the side of his head. “Of course, Zolf. I always will.”

They both fade into a comfortable silence. Hamid takes a breath, and then takes Zolf’s hand as they walk, fingers lacing together as he squeezes it, rubbing a thumb along the back of his hand. It’s a promise - a promise of later, a promise to talk when they finally get a moment. A promise of opportunity. A promise of… something, Hamid’s not sure what, but he knows what he wants it to be. And maybe, with the way that Zolf squeezes back… maybe he does too. 

**Author's Note:**

> i can only talk so long abt hamid going dragony to protect zolf without writing it
> 
> i’ve been workin on another fic that shall not be named for a while and it’s goin great but also i have put everything else aside to work on it. then i decided to finish this up and post it tonight for reasons that also shall not be named. enjoy!


End file.
